A Promise
by Jemma97
Summary: As the kids are freed from Mount Weather, Clarke becomes worried when she can't find someone she cares about. BELLARKE FLUFF. SET AFTER 2x12.


The first person she sees is Jasper, shadowed closely by Monty on one side and Miller on the other. Behind them is a mob of the most beautiful people she's ever seen—_her _people. Safe. As the newly freed teenagers simultaneously rush out of the building, each embracing loved ones or just breathing in the air, she's able to feel relief as she recognizes faces. They're safe. Everything she's done…it's all okay. Her people are safe. She feels an unexpected feeling of relief as she sees them. She's even glad to see Maya, who's clad in a radiation suit and oxygen tank.

"Jasper!" Octavia yells from behind her, unable to keep the glee out of her voice as he and Monty—Miller went to see his own father—moved toward them.

One important face is missing from the group

_Where is Bellamy? _

She searches the crowd, looking for his familiar face, a fear growing in her chest. What if he…what if he…

"Clarke!" Jasper and Monty nearly tackle her as they envelop her in a hug, and she allows herself to hug them back, ignoring Jasper's repeating apologies about how he should have listened to her or at least gone after her. "Jasper, where's—"she's unable to finish her sentence as he disappears into Raven's and Octavia's hugs. She turns back toward Monty, but he, too, has disappeared.

_Where is Bellamy? _

Everyone around her is too busy embracing each other, chatting loudly or just holding each other; the commotion makes it nearly impossible to see anyone, and her fears grow by the second. _Surely _he would have been out by now? There are no more people coming out of Mount Weather, which means she either missed him coming out, or he…

_No. _She refuses to consider the alternative. She did _not _send Bellamy to his death. She was _not _going to lose Bellamy Blake. She couldn't.

For the next several moments—which was actually only about ten seconds, although it felt like an eternity to Clarke—she just stands, staring over the commotion of her people being reunited, staring at the door to Mount Weather. _Come on, Bellamy. Come on…_

And then, like an answer to a prayer, she sees movement.

And, supporting a very battered Harper, Bellamy steps out of the shadows of Mount Weather, squinting at the sun beaming down at his face.

Clarke suddenly feels that she can breathe again. _Bellamy is safe. I didn't send him to his death. He's safe. _

His eyes lock onto hers immediately, and he begins to move toward her, nearly dragging Harper, who looks as if she might faint at any moment. Someone—Kane—takes Harper's other side, allowing her to rest on him instead of Bellamy. Clarke sees him exchange a quick word with Bellamy, who's eyes never leave her face. Kane claps Bellamy on the shoulder before turning to back Harper and leading her away.

For a brief moment, which once again felt like an eternity to Clarke, they find themselves staring at each other. Then, at the exact same time, they begin to move across the crowd towards each other—not a slow, steady pace, but an aggressive, desperate one. All Clarke knows is that she _needs _to get to Bellamy Blake.

Her vision tunnels as she makes her way toward him, ignoring people around her reaching out or calling her name. She can only see Bellamy.

The moment they're close enough, he wastes no time. His hands move immediately to her neck and he pulls her to him, kissing her straight on the mouth.

Part of Clarke should have been surprised, and part of her should have pushed him away, but that was _not _what she wanted to do. In fact, she does quite the opposite. Her arms find their way around his waist and she kisses him back, enjoying the feeling of him. She enjoys the feeling of his roughly callused hands softly against the back of her neck and tangled in her hair. She enjoys the feeling of the muscles in his back underneath her hands. She enjoys the feeling of his mouth on top of hers, tongue teasing her as she breathes him in. But, mostly, she just enjoys the fact that he's _here. _He's _safe _and he's _here _and he's _kissing her. _

Finally, Bellamy pulls back, breathless. Still gripping the back of her neck in a fashion that's somehow both desperate and gentle, he brings his head down so his forehead is resting on hers. "Next time, Princess," he says, and Clarke relishes in his familiar, deep voice, "we're doing that before I head for certain death."

She shakes her head, feeling his damp hair against her own, "Bellamy there's not going to be a next time."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

Her arms move around his head and she closes her eyes, trying to speak the truth, "It means that there's _no way _you're doing something that dangerous again."

He chuckles, "I'd do it again in a heartbeat if it won me a kiss like this."

"I'll kiss you like that anytime."

"Oh really?" That just causes him to lean down for another one, and she gives it to him willingly.

And, somehow, kissing Bellamy was so different than kissing anyone else had ever been before. It wasn't an "impulsive, need-to-take-care-of-my-hormones" thing like it had been the first time with Finn, nor was it a "we're teenagers now, we might as well get this over with" thing like when she'd kissed Wells at age thirteen. This was different. This kiss—it felt like a promise.

She wasn't sure what exactly she was promising Bellamy Blake, but she was glad she was making that promise.


End file.
